Android: Golem (The Identity Trilogy) by Mel Odom

bioroids and clones. The origin was a Jewish myth about a soulless monster that could be raised for protection in times of need. As far as epithets went, I thought it was particularly fitting. I had no personal feelings on the matter.
    “I got something for golems.” The other man spoke more confidently than his partner.
    I searched the darkness for the men. I tracked the reverberations of the voices. Angles and vertices showed on my crosshairs, estimating the point of origin.
    In one massive eruption of sound and light, I knew where one of the men was. My vidware picked him up just as the muzzle flash of a compact rifle lit his face. I recognized the weapon as a 20mm anti-materiel rifle, something that was normally used to take out bulletproof vehicles and tanks. It was squat and wicked-looking, with a massive barrel.
    The specifics of the Croatian-made weapon bounced through me at the same time I realized that I wouldn’t be able to evade the bullet. I turned as quickly as I could, which was very fast, but the bullet traveled at 850 meters per second.
    I had no chance.
    The bullet struck me in the lower left side and spun me around. Instantly, my programming recognized and assessed the damage. I had a large hole in my side and the articulation of my left hip was partially blocked with debris from my own body.
    There was a slight warning pain within the operating parameters, but no more than necessary. The pain was only there to register that I had been damaged and would not continue if it interfered with my programming. The programming that dictated I protect Shelly from these men.
    The man fired again and again. The only advantage I had was that the weapon was slow to cycle the next round. The bullets blew fist-sized holes in the wall behind me, chewing through the carbosteel as if it were tissue paper.
    “Drake! Get out of there!”
    I couldn’t run effectively. I had already weighed evasion against retaliation. Retaliation came out on top. I lifted the Synap and took aim.
    TARGET IS BEYOND EFFECTIVE RANGE.
    Having no choice, I went at the shooter, managing two lurching steps. The nanobots that worked within my body to rewire systems and maximize performance under less than optimal circumstances were already hard at work making repairs.
    TARGET IS WITHIN EFFECTIVE RANGE.
    I squeezed the trigger and the shrill pierced the room again. The shooter lit up in bright blue as the bolt struck him and his last round whistled by me only centimeters from my head. At the same time, though, Shelly took aim. A bright ruby dot formed on the man’s chest and Shelly fired.
    My programming became conflicted. It was a problem with bioroids, and Shelly knew it. I went forward immediately to attempt resuscitation of the wounded man. Human life had to be preserved first and foremost. There was no way to write subroutines that allowed for different circumstances. Programmers had tried, but there had been too many problems. In the end, the government android licensing bureaus had insisted on the purity of the Three Directives.
    I knelt beside the fallen man as the third man broke and ran. If I’d had a shot at him, I might have taken it. But I didn’t. He remained in the shadows and behind the equipment.
    Instead, I concentrated on saving the life of the man Shelly had shot. She ran past me, knowing from experience that I couldn’t be swayed from my efforts.
    And that set up another conflict within me. I knew Shelly was rushing into danger and needed me to cover her back, but I knew that the man in front of me was going to die if I didn’t help him.
    I holstered my weapon and opened the jacket pocket where I carried a first-aid kit. I placed a hand against the wounded man’s neck. His pulse was weak and thready. He was unconscious from my Synap blast. I ripped his shirt open.
    Shelly’s round had taken the man high over the heart. I didn’t have x-ray capabilities, but I thought perhaps the bullet had missed the aortic arch. If that